


Paint a Masterpiece

by doubleohsixtynine (sabaix)



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5554106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaix/pseuds/doubleohsixtynine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something. Something like ferocious tigers, screaming in your body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ I'm pretty new to this fandom, but I tried to keep them in character, even if it is an AU. For starters, I will tell you that English is not my mother tongue and I want you to point out any mistake I made. This is unbeta'd. If anyone is willing to be a beta to a foolish fangirl that writes once in a blue moon, please contact me.  
> 1\. This is a human!AU, so the Institute that appears at the beginning is sort of a private school.  
> 2\. You can find [the painting here](moma.org/collection/works/180832?locale=en) and [the music here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9Y5z3jei_U)  
> 3\. The summary quote is from "Eleanor & Park" by Rainbow Rowell.  
> 4\. I wanted to change the way Magnus and Alec met, but it became an AU. Oh well. It was an AU to begin with. I tried to redo the 00Q from Skyfall. Anyway. Enjoy! ^^

His place was not there. His place was back at the Institute, in his dark room and under his warm covers. He hated New York’s weather more than anything. Summers were absolutely dreadfully hot and winters were horrifically cold. He was tired of living in the middle of those extremes. And he was tired of waiting like a forgotten lover.  
  
“Good colours. Good composition. A little too much ochre.”  
  
He was a hair length from snapping at Clary for being late, after she insisted for them to meet there. But the voice was a man’s. Alec blinked, slow and turned. He expected anything, from a rich old man that thought he was funny to an annoying teen. Behind him was a man, in his early twenties and for the lack of a better word, he looked gorgeous. Alec didn’t dare to look him up and down. He half hoped the stranger will find another lost soul to bother; he also hoped he will stay.  
  
“Kerstin Brätsch outdid himself with this piece.”  
  
Alec stupidly blinked again. He had such a mesmerizing voice like he created spells while breathing, while telling the weather. Right, whatever the beautiful stranger said. He didn’t answer.  
  
“What do you think?” The stranger asked.  
  
“Are you a stalker or an art critic?”  
  
The man raised an eyebrow, but Alec could tell he wasn’t insulted. He sat beside Alec, touched his hat and took it off. Alec could steal a glance of his hands. The stranger had darker skin which looked it was tanned. Alec wasn’t too good with words. He wasn’t the artist of the family or the anything special of the family. But for anybody who asked, the stranger skin was like caramel.  
  
“What do you see?”  
  
“Nothing. Circles? A lot of ink threw away?”  
  
The stranger chuckled. Apparently, Alec was amusing. All his nineteen years of life and he had no clue.  
  
“What do you see?” Alec asked, out of courtesy.  
  
  
“A bloody big ship.”  
  
Alec raised his eyebrows and looked at the stranger, puzzlement in his features. The man looked at him, a soft smiling gracing his profile. Now, Alec had a reason to stare at him and he was even more beautiful. He wore black eyeliner. It was smudged and on any other being, it would make one look like a raccoon. But him, oh, he was just shining. His eyes were amber or no. Maybe gold? Or green? Alec couldn’t decide. It seemed like the colours chose the man’s eyes to clash, to fight, to win. Alec gulped, but tried to pick up himself.  
  
“Are you trying to be funny, stalker?”  
  
The stranger laughed, a rich sound with childish undertones, but utterly sincere. Beautiful.  
  
“Oh, no. It was a reference.” He smiled at Alec. “I just came back from London, saw the movie in the cinema.” He shrugged. Alec nodded, with nothing else to do. “And I am not a stalker, Blue Eyes. My name is Magnus.”  
  
Air became foreign to Alec the second the name escaped the man’s lips. It was fitting, just like his velvet blue jacket or leather red jeans. He looked like art.  
“Magnus Bane.” He continued. _Great Destruction._ Alec nodded again and gave his hand. He shook his hand, ignoring the feeling of pure magic that got in him, all the way to his toes. Was this love? The books, the ones Isabelle liked to read sometimes, talked about love like that: bolts of electricity, shivers, and butterflies. The real thing, however, was so much more intense. For instance, the butterflies were big and ferocious tigers, screaming in his body; and the shivers were like a cold winter wind, making his physique tremble with anticipation, with hope.  
  
“And you, beautiful?”  
  
Magnus’ question brought Alec from his world of cliché romances.  
  
“Alec.”  
  
The man raised an arched eyebrow. Alec could see that he had blue glitter on the eyeliner.  
  
“Short for Alexander, I presume?”  
  
Alec smiled. His full name sounded weird on Magnus’ lips, but as alluring as everything he said. Magnus got closer to him and crossed his legs. Alec could feel his heat or it was just him, losing his mind over a guy he met at the museum. He forced a “yes”. Magnus just smiled, traces of amusement on his face.  
  
An easy silence fell on them, like a curtain after a great spectacle. Was that their end? Alec hoped with all his heart that he will see the man again. He stole another glance, just to confirm he was not hallucinating. But he was still there, in all his glory. He reminded Alec of Jace, heavenly beautiful and impossible to touch. Yet this man was there and all Alec had to do was raise his hand. Magnus was close enough that he could smell his perfume, cologne or whatever that masterpiece wore to make him more alluring.  
  
“What about Friday?”  
  
Alec looked at him, startled. His hand was halfway raised; it was a tragically half touch, maybe it was half a heartbreak too. Alec pulled back.  
  
“What about it?” He asked. Or thought he did it. He realised it wasn’t him, that he only thought the question because Magnus regarded him curiously.  
  
“I—“ He started.  
  
“I said, what about Friday. Do you want to shag my brother?”  
  
Alec blinked and became a cute shade of red. His eyes were down in an instant. He tried to say something, to repair the thing he had with Magnus. It was fragile before, but at the moment, his dear brother destroyed it, made it go down in flames.  
  
“Excuse me, but I usually wait for after the first date to state my intentions with anybody’s brother.”  
  
Alec blinked again and swallowed the words he wanted to say. He turned to his brother, his movements calculated and stiff.  
  
“What are you doing here, Jace? And where is Cla--”  
  
“Here. Sorry!”  
  
Alec frowned and forgot all about Magnus when he saw the perfect golden couple. He swallowed again and took a deep breath.  
  
“I should go.”  
  
Magnus’ voice washed over him like a wave. He felt like the shore. What a pity the storm was right before his eyes. He almost jumped to his feet. Magnus was already up, with his obnoxious hat in his hands. Alec caught him by the hand. The man turned to him, a little confused, but very much interested. And Alec just watched him, without blinking, without failing.  
  
“Friday. Six. Here?”  
  
Magnus smiled and Alec found himself grinning too, incapable to stop himself. Magnus smelled of sandalwood, promise and magic.  
  
“Sure thing, darling.”  
  
Magnus took his hand and kissed it. With a wink, he was gone, just like the heat and the tigers.  
  
“Wait, Alec. You’re gay?”  
  
“Shut up, Jace.”  
  
Their voices were lost to his ears. He could feel only the paper that Magnus gave him when he kissed his hand. His heart was speeding, jumping and bleeding with an enthusiasm he didn’t believe it was his own. He felt alive. He wanted to wait in that spot, until Friday rolled around until the clocks announced six. He grinned and shoved the paper with the man’s number in his jacket. Maybe he should dress nice for him. Maybe he should thank _Unstable Talismanic Rendering 27_ for his date. Maybe he should fall in love with that beautiful man.


	2. Talk Some Sense to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They ran around each other, touching and pretending they didn’t. Love was an infuriating circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ I decided I will make this a series. Don't ask why. Again, I will tell you that English is not my mother tongue and I want you to point out any mistake I made. This is unbeta'd. If anyone is willing to be a beta to a foolish fangirl that writes once in a blue moon, please contact me.  
> 1\. [Vincent van Gogh's "Fishing Boats at Sea"](http://www.wikiart.org/en/vincent-van-gogh/fishing-boats-at-sea-1888-1) / [Ivan Aivakovsky's "Near Crimean Coast"](http://www.wikiart.org/en/ivan-aivazovsky/near-crimean-coast-1890)  
> 2\. The inspiration for this chapter and the picture Alec likes is [this edited thing](https://36.media.tumblr.com/03036880927afaf1da75d673c23736bf/tumblr_o21c2kbAbk1qhp0nno3_r1_250.jpg). And I think the painting is [Ivan Aivazovsky' "Ship in the Stormy Sea"](http://www.wikiart.org/en/ivan-aivazovsky/ship-in-the-stormy-sea-1887). I am not sure, though.  
> 3\. The music for this chapter is still [this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6V_a1-EUA)  
> 4\. The thing at the end is a little reference to Dante's "Inferno" because we are studying it in my literature class at uni. And yeah... Enjoy~ ^^

An animalistic growl followed the alarm of one Alexander Lightwood, in the fourteenth room of the second floor of the Institute. Alec didn’t want to wake up yet, not when he had the knowledge that it was a too sunny Sunday. But Jace, his loving roommate and adopted brother, had made his sole mission in life to kill the brunet by making him have a heart attack. Or that was the impression he left on Alec. He changed his alarm to a train’s horn and after about a week, it still scared Alec out of the sweetest dreams.

“Rise and shine, Alec! It’s such a beautiful day, I may consider it to be better than me.”

Jace snickered, the kind of laugh that made Alec threw himself under the covers and forget about the sun, clouds and heat. But he had almost six seconds of pure silence before said roommate stole his covers.  
  
“Jace!” He groaned again and got up, knowing too well that he was fighting a lost battle. He sighed and tried to convince the blond to stay inside. Apparently, “If the weather is so nice, we should admire it from inside” wasn’t a good argument for him, or anyone. Thus Alec was forced in the bathroom, with a pile of clothes he was very sure wasn’t his. But Jace knew him all too well, being his brother and sharing the same room from the innocent age of six. So he appeased the blue-eyed beast with a mug, a big mug of hot coffee with two sugar cubes and a mountain of marshmallows. Jace was forgiven, even if he made Alec go out of his way and dress in tight leather pants.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“Se-cret.” Jace sang. After that, the star of every sport known to man continued to hum to an unknown tune. Alec was beginning to feel suspicious.  
  
“Are we meeting Clary? Again?” He asked as he sipped his coffee and ate his toast.  
  
“No! Of course not.”  
  
If Alec was sightless, Jace could have a chance or getting away with that blush that decorated his cheeks. But he had the ability to see (and he was very proud of his hawk-like eyes), so he had to cut his breakfast short, even after his roommate dragged him to the closest dinner he could find. Additionally, Jace was becoming annoying, with his constant bouncing of his foot and the tapping of his fingers. As they walked, it became clearer to Alec that they were on their way to meet Clary. First thing first, Jace took the route for the museum and even if his brother was not an ignorant, he could swear on everything he loved that the blond was not particularly interested by art. Furthermore, the same man will not shut up about Ukraine, the elegance of ships and how astonishing the pastels were. Not to get him wrong, but Alec knew Jace was a heterosexual, unlike him. He was aware of that since he was ten years old; when he foolishly told the boy he loved him. The blond laughed and answered his sentiment with an almost similar one. Of course he did, because it was expected to love your brother. Alec dug a nine-foot grave and hid his secret in there. Never talked about it, never mentioned it, never thought about it, ever again.  
  
He also knew that Jace was a playboy, another fact he learned the hard way; since he was forced to supervise his little brother at an innocent teen party and said sibling came with a girl, danced with another two and left with a third different one. All of that in the span of six hours. Not to be said, Alec was impressed. To add to the fact that the blond was troublesome (but loved), he tried to sleep with his older brother when he was drunk and Alec tried long hair. Thus, he was knowledgeable about the interesting history of the teen and still wasn’t able to comprehend why Jace was fixated on that redhead. Usually, he moved on by the third unsuccessful meeting. But not now. They weren’t together yet, yet Alec could see the signs. Jace was modelling for Clary and the painter tried to hide behind an easel so nobody could see her blush. They ran around each other, touching and pretending they didn’t. Love was an infuriating circle.  
  
Jace stopped abruptly. Being caught in his thoughts and analysing, Alec didn’t notice they arrived on an unknown alley, full of people of various ages in different states of cleanness. Alec scowled.  
  
“So, little brother--”  
  
“I’m older, Jace.”  
  
“-here we are. ” The blond ignored him, like he never talked. Typical Jace. “I’m going to let my eye gaze at this beauties.”  
  
“Why am I here?”  
  
“Oh, that. Well.” Jace smiled and Alec didn’t like it one bit. “It is a surprise. Go on. Have fun. I promise you will start to like ships as much as me.” Alec wasn’t so sure. “Meet me here in exactly one hour.”  
  
He nodded, just because he saw a mop of red in his peripheral view. He was right. They were there for Clary. If Jace made him the unwilling witness of another of his pathetic attempts to woo that girl, Alec was prepared to punch him, hard, in the face. But his brother already ran off somewhere, thus he wasn’t able to convey his violent message. He started walking slowly, stopping now and then to look closely at a painting. All of them were graffiti, but gave the impression of being painted by the artist himself. If he didn’t know better, Alec could swear van Gogh was alive when he passed a perfect _‘Fishing Boats at Sea’_.  
  
He paused in front of one work of art, with three main colours in it. The picture had bright white in the water and sky, electric blue in the tumultuous sea and warm black for the slightly slanted boat. The centre piece was the grand ship and the mesmerizing liquid. The white was losing itself on the wall, going in cracks and continuing forever, yet it seemed unimportant, just the background of a masterpiece.  
  
“First the Germans, now the Ukrainians? Your tastes in men and art are very peculiar, Alexander.”  
  
Alec jumped out of his skin. When Jace dragged him out of his warm bed and forced him to drink his coffee, he didn’t think he will see him or hear his voice, not so soon, not until Friday. He turned and looked at Magnus. He was taken aback by the man, standing in the dirty alley like he was a minor god. He had a top hat, decorated with an arrogant feather, soft white and little blue flowers on the edges. He was dressed in the clothes of a gentleman from the 19th century. Alec was positive that he saw the same outfit in his history textbook. The man also was the proud owner of a golden cane. While he remained silent, Magnus continued, smiling:  
  
“You were right. I am an art critic. Although, I am more of an art buyer. I hate critiquing people’s work. I like all forms of art.” He made a gesture at himself. “I prefer to collect it.”  
  
“Did you collect this outfit as well?” Oh, that was stupid of you, Alec. An educated individual couldn’t ask that. “I mean—I’m s—”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Alec raised his eyes, being oblivious to the fact he was studying his shoes, until he was required to look in those violent eyes. Couldn’t Magnus decide on a colour?  
  
“Not be afraid to speak your mind, Alexander.”  
  
His name, all over again. Maybe it was the way he pronounced it. He had an accent, although Alec couldn’t place it. But it was present and it was bugging him for an unknown. The professors used his full name too. One couldn’t ask a sixty-year-old man with three degrees if he was kind enough to use your nickname. He was familiar with it. Yet Magnus was glorifying his name, just by saying it.  
  
“I like it.” Alec said in the end, half turning to the painting, while stealing glances of the colourful man.  
  
“Ivan Aivazovsky?”  
  
“That’s his name?”  
  
“Of the original painter, yes.”  
  
“It’s beautiful. I like his name too.”  
  
Silence. Alec started to think he damaged everything.  
  
“Are names important to you?”  
  
“Kind of. Jace said they are my kink.”  
  
Magnus laughed and Alec felt slightly lighter.  
  
“I like Ivan. I bought a lot of his paintings. I think I have this one, too.” He pointed to the wall and Alec followed his hand like a bewitched man. Magnus smiled at him. “In my personal gallery.” He continued. “I want to show you something, Alexander. It’s a radiant painting. _‘Near Crimean Coast’_ , from 1890. I think you will love the golds in that.” He looked at the boy while speaking, carefully composing another binding spell. Alec thought that for a second, the man’s eyes sparkled with an unnatural glow and his pupils went linear. But he blinked and the illusion went with that. A trick of the light, he decided. “I have it in my loft. Would you like to see it?”  
  
Alec blinked again. His first instinct was to accept because Magnus was that alluring and he smelled of promises and love, but his rationality stopped him. Maybe the man was glamorous and a lovely human being, yet he was a stranger standing just two feet away. He was feeding crumbs to the boy, baiting him, engaging him. He offered pleasant mornings in bed, sinful nights on the sofas and delicious years of affection. Alec felt devastated. Maybe his poor heart couldn’t handle everything the man had offered him. Maybe it wasn’t necessary.  
  
“I—Jace.”  
  
“Oh. Are you worried about the blond Narcissus? Do not be. Clary will take good care of him. I think a rejection will be good for him.”  
  
“Yeah.” He wanted to go with Magnus, whenever the man wanted. He fidgeted with his shirt, the tight thing his brother picked for him.  
  
“Oh, I understand. I am a stranger to you.” Magnus laughed and looked like Alec didn’t reject him. He was content. “I won’t hurt you, Alexander. And I promise I am not a kidnapper.”  
  
“That’s what a kidnapper would say.”  
  
Magnus chuckled. “You are right. I won’t insist. If you want to accept my offer, I will be here for another twenty minutes. Don’t feel this is an ultimatum either.”  
  
The man turned to leave, using his cane to walk. It was strange. Alec didn’t think Magnus needed the object to aid him. Perhaps it was another whim of his. As he was starting to lose sight of the eccentric man, the brunet made up his mind and shouted after him: “I accept.”  
  
And the smile he received in response threw him in a storm of hesitation, of what ifs and captivating why nots. The smile was both stunning and alarming. But one doesn’t need reason to get into Heaven, anyway.


End file.
